I am a big believer in shit. It's not because I'm depressed or suicidal or anything- and I have no comment as to whether or not I am.
It's simply because I have a lot of undeniable evidence that shit exists. And it does. You can see it everywhere if you take a peep out of the perfect little bubble that is your life. But you won't, because you're scared that if you look out at the people who are hurting you'll catch it. You're scared that understanding and caring will make you one of them. One of those girls that's had their heart broken, and then had it chucked to the ground and stamped on because someone wasn't worth their love.
But if you are one of those people that are strong enough to look past the walls, then you do see a lot of shit. And maybe you'll be surprised as to how little of that shit actually belongs to them. 'Cause a lot of it's just the crap that others can't deal with.
So don't feel sorry for them because they don't need it. They're not the ones with the problems; they're the ones that other people have dumped their problems on. And believe me, it sucks.
Hey, I'm Leah Clearwater, and I've been to hell and back. I like to think that I've made it through pretty much unscathed, but I'll let you form your own opinion on that.
One thing I accept though is that I haven't made it through unchanged. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and all that jazz. I know this probably sounds so cliché, but it's the truth. I've been working on that- telling the truth, I mean- along with other virtuous qualities (respect, consideration, general normality...). If I was being completely truthful I'd tell you that it's actually coming along quite well. I'm not going to though, so don't hold your breath- unless of course you're one of the pack. Jacob Black, if you're reading this, fuck off and die. Or erase your memory of the last five minutes- whichever's easiest.
I guess what I'm trying (and apparently failing?) to say is that I've come a long way from the girl that cried for a month after her boyfriend dumped her, and I want people to know that. And just, deal, you know? Because I'm not changing for anyone. And if people call me a bitch then that's their problem. I've said that for a long time and it's still true now.
But as well as that? If people call me a good mate then that's fine too. If someone wants to call me beautiful then... well for most guys it will mean a good kick where it hurts. But if one day the right man wants to think of me as more than a friend... then yeah, I would be happy to say that he did. Between you and me, I have no idea who the right guy is at the moment. But honestly? I think I have a pretty decent idea who it isn't. And while we're on the subject, I should probably tell you what I'm wearing right now. I chose it, of course, but it had to be checked by Emily. It's not what you'd expect, really. It's a bit shorter than she wanted it to be and no flowers are getting within ten miles of this baby, but it's a gorgeous colour. Kinda glossy golden brown. Something I would no way be wearing if I wasn't about to be a bridesmaid to my cousin and my ex boyfriend. But it's beautiful in its way. Most things are, actually, but sometimes you have to look a bit harder than others.
AN: This is something I came up with a while back, just after I read Breaking Dawn. One of the many problems I have with that book is that it doesn't finish Leah's story off properly. I'm not going to do a chapter fic of what happens to her after the book ends right now, although it's something I'd love to try, but this is kinda a short epilogue I guess? I'm not really sure but I hope you enjoyed it anyways x